Summer Blaze
by SilentBat18
Summary: Inspired by this extremely hot weather, i've written a long one shot, one that's a lazy read for you to enjoy with a tall glass of iced tea. It's a sweet back and forth between Jazz and Terry that reveals interesting insights about the two.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: well, well, well, guess what dear fans? Yup, i have spun out yet another long oneshot. This was partially brought on by my realization that there is a lack of one on one time with my two fav characters, and partially because i just finished writing a freakin graduate level paper on counseling Terry using existential theories! (no, i won't be posting that paper for several reasons, one being most of you won't really understand what i'm talking about). Anyway, like i was saying, i felt that i have neglected the Terry/Jazz friendship recently, and given how i ended the last fic, i thought this would be an interesting follow up. I tightened some strings here and there, but over all this is just a long but sweet Q & A session i guess. For those of you who have questions that weren't answered in the last fic (i.e. how Ter got that scar), this should offer some enlightenment. Anywho, enough of my boring words; now go, read on, enjoy, and review!_**

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><p>The sweltering July heat drives Jazz to seek shelter in her apartment. With the air conditioner on full blast and a fan blowing in her face, she flops down on the couch and grumbles her sweaty misery to the cat. Another week in this heat, and she won't hesitate to move to the north pole and enjoy what's left of the ice caps before she boils herself.<p>

Suddenly, the most horrific sound known to man petrifies Jazz: the air conditioner begins sputtering before silence announces its death. Leaping off the couch, she rushes to an air vent hoping she might have heard wrong. However, her gut sinks to the floor when she feels nothing coming out confirming a broken AC. She can't survive in this heat with no relief. Groaning inwardly, she pushes herself away from the vent, grabs her bag, and walks out the door to enter Oven City.

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><p>Even wearing the shortest shorts and the thinnest cotton shirt she owns, she still ends up soaked in sticky sweat by the time she reaches the manor. However, when she opens the door to be greeted by a gust of cool relief, the trip suddenly becomes worth it. Dropping her bag on the floor in the kitchen, she opens the freezer and sticks her head in it smiling when the refreshing cold tingles her red cheeks. After a quick moment, she pulls out a popsicle, unwraps the strawberry flavored treat, and goes in search of Terry as she sucks on the refreshing ice.<p>

After checking the study, library, and dining hall, she finds no sign of him anywhere. She continues aimlessly wandering the mansion, and as she walks by the second story windows, she finds Terry in the back yard scrubbing the floor of the empty pool. Frowning with curiosity, Jazz makes her way down and out into the blazing afternoon heat.

"Hey," she greets grabbing his attention. She walks over to sit on the edge of the pool dangling her legs over the side.

"Hi," he returns without looking up. He continues scrubbing the floor with a long handle pool brush.

"What'd you do to deserve this kind of punishment?"

"It's not a punishment."

She raises a brow at his answer. "So why are you doing this?"

"Why not?"

"Cause it's 105 degrees." He quietly shrugs as he continues with his cleaning duties.

Getting up, Jazz walks back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returns with two chilled water bottles, two hats, and an extra bucket of soapy water. She hands Terry the bucket before jumping down to join him in the empty pool. She offers him one of the bottles which he gladly takes and thirstily gulps half of it down. After she's been thanked, she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it down forcing him to bend over. Once his head is within her reach, Jazz covers it with one of the baseball caps.

"You're such an idiot sometimes," Jazz sighs making him aware of how close he was to cooking his brain.

"Thanks," Terry replies with an amused smile.

After pulling her own hat over her head, she grabs a hand brush and starts working on the walls. They work in silence for a few minutes unaware of Bruce watching them from the second story window.

"So, how long is it going to take before the pool is ready?" Jazz asks moving down the wall to the deeper end.

"Don't know. This is the first time I've cleaned it out. Why'd you come anyway?"

"My AC broke down."

"I see how that inspires you to bake out here," Terry quips.

"Do you want my help or what, McGinnis?" Jazz replies frowning.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

With small talk failing, the two settle for a comfortable silence as they continue to scrub the years of dirt and algae that have stained the grout and covered the floor. As Jazz moves to the deeper end of the pool, she realizes that the wall is getting higher than she is tall.

"Crap," she curses under her breath when she stretches as far as she can but can't reach the top of the wall. "Where's the ladder?" She asks dropping her brushes in the bucket.

A moment later though, she's startled to have her feet leave the floor when Terry lifts her onto his shoulders. He hands her the brushes she dropped and takes up two of his own to continue cleaning the wall. Stifling a grin, she returns to work easily reaching all the way to the top thanks to Terry's help.

"You didn't have to do that," Jazz says anchoring herself on his shoulders by wrapping her legs around his body.

"A ladder is just a hassle; you'll have to move it every few minutes. This is just faster."

"I guess it's safe to say you're brain hasn't been completely fried by the sun," she replies playfully pulling the visor of his cap down. "So, you never said why you were doing this."

"Two things: access to a private pool, and it's summer."

"And Bruce is letting you?"

"He hasn't stopped me yet," Terry replies making Jazz look down at him. "He's been watching us from the window, haven't you noticed?"

She turns her head to look at the manor to find Terry's right. "How'd you know?" She asks looking down at him.

"I've known the man for almost seven years. You should be surprised if I didn't notice."

"What else do you know?" She asks handing him the brushes so he could wet them in the bucket.

"I'm not telling you anything. If I had to learn the hard way, it's only fair that you do too." She rolls her eyes at him and takes the brushes from his hands.

"By the way, how are we even supposed to fill this thing up?" Jazz asks suddenly realizing the massive size of the pool.

"In the shed where all the pool gear is stored, I saw this giant hose. I'm guessing it connects to the water line," he replies taking a few steps down the wall.

"You realize this is going to take us till tomorrow to finish."

"Then clean faster."

Scowling at the top of his head, she continues scrubbing away at the wall without saying another word. A couple of hours pass before the two finally have the entire pool scrubbed up and ready to be rinsed. After Jazz hops off of Terry's shoulders, he climbs out of the pool to fetch a hose and a pump. When he returns, he hangs the hose leading to the pump over the deep end and tosses a clean pool brush over to Jazz.

"Push the water towards the pump," Terry instructs as he starts spraying water from the shallow end.

"Why am I supposed to be the one to push the water?" Jazz asks scowling at the brush by her feet.

"Because I said so," he replies wetting down the walls. "Come on, get to it," he orders with a grin. When she sends a scowl his way, he points the hose at her spraying her down.

Letting out a laugh of surprise, she quickly hops away from the waters range. "Cute, McGinnis, real cute," she giggles as she picks up the brush and does as she's told

It takes another hour before they are done rinsing the sides of the pool and for the pump to suck up the dirty water. With the sun beginning to set, Terry helps Jazz climb out of the pool. As she returns the buckets and brushes to the shed, he takes out the large water hose he was talking about earlier and sets it up to begin the filling process.

"Hey, where's that hose you were using earlier?" Jazz asks.

"Why?"

"I found some chaise lounges that I can clean."

He points in the direction of the lawn where he tossed the hose earlier. After she drags the loungers out, he helps wipe them down with a rag after she dowses them with water.

"Thanks, by the way," Terry starts as he watches Jazz spray down the last chair.

"Thank my dead air conditioner," she replies before turning off the water.

"I'll send it a card."

"Are you hungry?" Jazz asks when Terry dries the last chair

"What are you making?"

"Nothing, _you're_ making us something today," she replies walking past him.

"Uh, okay," Terry hesitantly replies following her into the kitchen.

As she moves to the fridge and pulls out a jug of iced tea, Terry takes out a loaf of bread intended for sandwiches.

"Turkey or tuna?" He asks when he grabs the rest of the ingredients from the fridge.

"Sandwiches? Really?" She asks unimpressed by his effort.

"You can only blame yourself for this one, Douglas."

"Turkey," she mumbles rolling her eyes.

As he prepares their lunch, Jazz takes a long gulp of her refreshing tea. Once ready, he slides her plate over as he takes a seat across from her. They eat in silence and study every detail in the kitchen except each other.

"You know what I hate about summer?" She suddenly asks after Terry finishes his meal.

"The heat?"

She shakes her head as she gets up to collect the empty plates and place them in the sink. "No, the sun. It gives everything that weird smell; know what I'm talking about?"

"Not really."

"Well, it's the way someone who's been outside smells like. You can tell they've been out in the sun because of it. It's like a weird sweaty, musty type of smell. The worst part is that it clings on you until you take a shower, and you only notice it when you're inside in the cool, humidity-free air."

"And that's what you hate about summer?" Terry asks resting his cheek on a propped fist.

"I hate summer in general. It's a terrible season, especially in Gotham. All you do is sweat and be miserable under an unforgiving sun."

"What's your favorite season then?"

"Fall."

"Why?"

"Cause of the colors," she replies smiling. "Every leaf takes on a different shade forcing you to pay attention to each one. Reds, yellows, even purple on the rare occasion. You look at a tree in the summer and there's nothing special about it, but in the fall…" her voice trails off as she imagines forests of golden trees that seem to shimmer. "And there's a smell to the air. It's not sweet or piney. It's… I don't really know how to describe it."

"Earthy," Terry replies.

"Yeah," Jazz agrees bringing her dreamy eyes to meet his. "But not overwhelmingly. It's got that subtle freshness to it."

"Especially after it rains," he adds leaning back in his chair.

"Exactly," she says slightly surprised by how he found the words she was looking for. "How'd you know?" A passive shrug is his reply. "What's your favorite then?"

"Winter."

"Winter?" She repeats surprised yet again.

"Yeah, what'd you think it was?"

"Summer."

"Why?"

"Short skirts," she replies with a teasing grin.

"Funny," Terry says rolling his eyes.

He downs the rest of his tea and walks out heading back to the yard. Hating herself for the stupid comment, Jazz follows him out to apologize.

"Hey, look, I didn't mean what I said back there," she starts.

"Relax, I'm not offended," he replies as he checks on the hose filling the pool. "Just surprised by your opinion of me."

She awkwardly stuffs her hands in her pockets and shifts her weight from one leg to the next. "So, why winter?"

With a sigh, he takes a seat on the edge dangling his legs over the side and watches the water flow out of the hose. "I'd rather be cold than hot."

Not buying his answer, she takes a seat next to him and nudges him with her shoulder. "Come on; I told you mine."

A moment of silence passes before Terry speaks. "Ever been through a blizzard?"

"A few times, yeah."

"My favorite part is right after, when everything is covered in snow. It's like time stopped and the snow makes everything look different. It gives you a different perspective of the world you thought you knew; a chance to see the city when it's quiet."

"It's like a getaway," Jazz adds. He lifts his head to look at her with agreement. "Just when you think you despise the city and would do anything to leave, the storm gives you a chance to love it again."

"Exactly."

They share a mesmerized gaze for a moment before Jazz suddenly clears her throat and looks away.

"It's getting dark," she says looking up at the golden sky slowly turning indigo. "I saw some lights in the shed that we can hang." She quickly gets to her feet to fetch them.

A sigh escapes his lips as he takes off the hat to run a hand through his hair. Something almost clicked there, but he quickly pushes it to the back of his mind. Now is not the time to explore something he shouldn't be feeling in the first place. Getting up, he helps her hang the string of lights on posts set up around the pool.

"So, you never told me when you actually started to cook," Terry says hanging his half of the lights on the last post.

"If you should know," Jazz sighs inserting the plug into the outlet. "It was by accident." She looks up at the lights scowling at the few that were burnt out. "I was in Atlanta, and the caretaker there had a weird way of punishing us; I'm not sure if it borders on abuse." She stretches out on one of the lounges before continuing.

"I was twelve at the time and already a regular trouble maker. So the caretaker, Dolly I think her name was, found out I had snuck out the night before. So I wasn't allowed dinner that night, and while the other kids enjoyed their dry meatloaf, I was forced to sit in front of the TV with the channel stuck on the Food Network. I guess Dolly's intention was to make my stomach eat itself while I watched appetizing food being prepared, but I actually became interested with the whole cooking process instead. You could say that there were times I intentionally got in trouble 'cause it was the only way I could watch the Food Network without interruption. After I turned 18 and left child care services, I taught myself to cook using what I watched."

"Well that backfired on poor Dolly," he jokes as he takes a seat on the lounge across from her.

She laughs at the remark. "Yeah, I guess it did," she sighs. "So what's your favorite dish?" She asks as she stares up at the darkening sky.

Lying down and clasping his hands behind his head, he gives his answer some thought. "I don't know; I pretty much eat anything that's edible."

"Oh come on, everyone has that one dish that waters their mouths uncontrollably."

"Well, if I had to pick one thing, it's catfish."

"Catfish?" She asks with a perked brow.

"Ever had it?"

"Once a while ago. It's a versatile fish; you can pretty much cook it into anything."

"My grandma makes the best oven-baked catfish on the planet. I don't know what she does to it, but when it comes out, I never seem to have enough. If she didn't live in Florida, I'd probably be over her place every weekend to have some."

"Maybe you should plan a trip sometime."

"Nah; she doesn't really like me that much anymore."

"Cause of your record?"

"Yeah; she's old fashioned. You'll always be a hooligan if you end up behind bars once," he says repeating the words his grandmother once said.

"Doesn't she know what you've been doing lately though?"

"Not sure," he shrugs. "Mom tries to talk to her about me, but from what I understand, Grandma Macy doesn't really ask much after me."

"That sucks."

"Gotten used to it."

They quietly lay next to each other listening to the gushing water fill the enormous pool and watching the last sliver of sun disappear into Gotham's bay.

"God, the nights are just as hot as the days," Jazz complains as she takes off her hat and fans herself with it.

"At least the sun isn't beating down on us," Terry replies.

"Always the optimist," she quips. She looks up at the darkened sky and watches as the first stars of the night begin to shine. "Stars are out tonight."

"Hm," he acknowledges staring up.

He gets up and turns off the string of lights surrounding them so they can get a better look at the gems scattered in the sky. He returns to his seat and continues star gazing in silence.

"What's it like being up there?" Jazz asks.

"What do you mean?"

"In space. One of the Justice League's head quarters is up there, and you've been to it, haven't you?"

"Yeah, a few times."

"So what was it like?"

"Honestly, kinda intimidating."

"How come?"

"You realize just how small and insignificant you really are." She turns to look at him for a second before bringing her eyes up to the twinkling sky. "I remember when I first got there, I looked out the window and saw the earth for the first time. It was enormous; the scale of it is indescribable. Pictures don't prepare you for what you see in real life. It really puts things into perspective.

"Anyway, there was this hurricane forming in the Gulf of Mexico, a pretty big one too. Leaguers were being dispatched to help citizens evacuate and save whatever they can of their cities. But in the end, not even Superman could stop the storm from making landfall. It made me realize that no matter how important or powerful you are, there will be times when your effort won't make a difference. That scared me; it meant that sometimes failing is inevitable no matter what I do."

"Sometimes it isn't about failing or succeeding, though," Jazz starts. "Sometimes it's about that effect you have on the people who experience what you've done no matter how small or insignificant you think it is," she replies making Terry scoff.

"Did you read that on a fortune cookie?" He asks with a cheeky grin.

"No," she grins back realizing how philosophical she sounded just then. "I mean let's face it, you can't save everybody in this city no matter how hard you try; people die under your watch, but the thing is, they still believe in you and trust you to save them. They may lose people they love, but they eventually make meaning of their loss and move on."

Looking at her, Terry finds himself once again grateful for these moments they share. Her simple, straightforward words help him reason and find a way to reassure growing anxieties. He's amazed by how cool she appears now as she stares up at the sky seemingly unaware of the profound effect she tends to have on him. A shooting star cuts across the sky and slices through his string of thoughts.

"Did you see that?" She asks with childlike awe.

"Yeah," he replies turning his eyes skyward. "Make a wish."

"That's a waste of time," she scoffs.

"Cynicism can get old sometimes, Jazz. Just close your eyes and make a damn wish."

Smiling, Jazz does as she's told and the two sit in silence as she finds a wish to make.

However, the quiet moment is cut short when Bruce suddenly makes his presence known. "Are you two going to keep lounging around or are you going to get to work already?"

The young adults exchange glances before reluctantly getting up and following Bruce to the cave's entrance. "So what'd you wish for?" Terry asks looking down at his partner.

"That we'd have the night off for once," she replies before the two snicker at the ironic twist.

-continued-


	2. Chapter 2

With the knowledge of a refreshing pool filled to the brim waiting for her, Jazz doesn't waste time with heading over to the manor the next day. With towel in tow, she walks out into the backyard where the glistening water calls to her. Terry has beaten her to it and is lazily floating in the water unaware of her arrival. Dropping her towel on the lounger she was laying on the night before, she takes off her shorts and shirt revealing the pink bikini.

Rather than make her presence known with a verbal greeting, she runs to the pool's edge and leaps canon-ball style into the cool water. When she surfaces, she's already in a fit of laughter as she swims towards Terry.

"Best idea you've had in a long time, McGinnis," she praises.

"Gee, thanks," he sarcastically replies before playfully dunking her underwater.

Rather than come up for air, she dives further down to grab his ankles and pull him down with her. A moment later, they both come up giggling from the childish play.

"I didn't think you were this much fun," Jazz says as they swim to the edge facing the hills.

"Wait, what?" Terry asks confused by her statement. Reaching the edge, they anchor themselves with propped folded arms.

"You seem a bit of a stickler sometimes," she unapologetically replies. "I didn't think you would loosen up."

"What gave you that impression?"

She shrugs as she rests her chin on her arms. "We never seem to hang out like this, that's all. It's usually just business between you and me; we're either training or out in the field. Even during the music lesson you seem a little rigid. I was beginning to wonder how you and Max, a fun-loving human being, can be your best friend, but I get it now."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," she replies with a grin ignoring his sarcastic undertone. "Speaking of Max, have you two ever hooked up?"

"No," he replies rolling his eyes. He's become used to people constantly inquiring about them spending so much time together; it gets annoying after a while. "Why?"

"Curious. You two are always hanging around each other and you know what they say about guys being friends with girls."

"No I don't, please elaborate," he replies with a scowl.

"They can't be friends; they either end up hating or dating each other."

"That's ludicrous, Jazz," he scoffs rolling his eyes, but she merely shrugs in reply. "If your bogus theory was true, then what about us?"

"What about us?" Jazz asks quirking an inquisitive brow.

"Aren't we friends?"

"Yeah, but I'm already in a relationship."

"Doesn't matter. I've seen girls cheat all the time."

"I'd never cheat on Henry if that's what you're implying."

"That doesn't stop you from developing feelings for someone else though."

"The rule doesn't apply to us. Did you forget we used to hate each other?"

"Not anymore though. So if what you're saying is true, then you must be madly in love with me right now. Am I right?" Terry teases with a grin.

"I get it, McGinnis. The stupid friend theory has no merit," she replies rolling her eyes.

He lets go of the ledge for a moment to dunk his head under the water, and after resurfacing, slicks his hair back before retaking his position next to Jazz.

"Hm," Jazz makes the curious sound as she stares at him.

"What?" He asks frowning at her.

"You're hair. It actually looks good like that."

"Like what?" Terry replies still oblivious to why she's smiling at him.

"Like that," she replies reaching an arm out to push a stray lock back and away from his face. "You actually look like an adult and not a teenage kid with a floppy head of hair. You should wear it like that more often."

"You sound like my mom right now," he replies looking rather amused.

"You should listen to her more often; the woman speaks sense after all."

"If she heard you right now, she'd probably force me to marry you."

Jazz laughs at the prospect. "Then never mind what I said."

A quiet moment passes before Jazz notices the faded scar on Terry's arm. When she had last seen and touched it, the scar was a lot more prominent and became part of the reason she came back.

"You never told me how you got that," Jazz finally says nodding at the old injury.

"This?" He asks running a finger over the length of it as he remembers the time when he caught Jazz caressing it. "I was cleaning the attic when I grazed my arm on a rusty nail."

"Attic?" Jazz suddenly exclaims. Her life changing decision was made thanks to a clumsy accident?

"Yeah," Terry replies confused by her surprise. "Why?"

"I thought you got that on the job, not doing a chore." She replies burying her face in her arms.

"What difference does it make?" He asks with a raised brow.

"None really," she responds before the thought makes her laugh.

She finds it amusing that so much guilt was tied to an injury inflicted by Terry's blundering carelessness. Nevertheless, scar or not, she's glad to be back even if the factor that pushed her decision was a little misguided. With her head still resting on her arms, she turns it to watch Terry make ripples in the water with his fingers. Her eyes travel away from his face and down to whatever she can see of his torso. Her gaze rests on a faint scar on the back of his upper arm, one that's usually covered by the sleeves of his shirt.

"What about that one?" She asks reaching a hand out and touching the barely visible mark.

He turns his head to look at the hand touching his skin before lifting his eyes to meet hers. "Happened when I was a kid. I think I was 6 or 7, and I was playing on the jungle gym. Slipped, fell, and cut my arm."

Jazz suddenly pushes herself away from the edge and lifts her legs onto the ledge replacing where her arms used to be. "See this?" She asks pointing at a long scar on the side of her calf. "I got that the same way."

"What'd you fall on?"

"Side of the slide. You?"

"Slipped off the monkey bars."

Jazz brings her legs down and retakes her previous position. "It's weird how much we have in common sometimes," she says blankly staring at the view of the rolling hills before them. "Creeps me out."

"I know what you mean," he replies before they fall into a momentary silence.

"What scares you?" Jazz suddenly asks without looking at him.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"What are _you_ scared of?" Terry asks.

"Spiders." The reply makes him chuckle. "Your turn."

"Still nothing."

"I don't believe you. There's got to be one thing in this world that you're afraid of. I won't laugh if it's embarrassing, I promise."

He lets out a sigh before taking a quick look around to make sure there are no unwanted ears within range. "I, uh," he hesitates as he stares at the gentle waves push and pull at the pool's edge. "I'm afraid of ending up alone like Bruce."

The confession changes the way Jazz looks at him. He always seemed like a man with no fears or worries; he goes through every day with a light heart, but now it's clear that it's a façade, a way to protect his secrets. It explains why he reacted to her departure so badly, and why he tried so hard to bring her back.

She turns her gaze back to the view before them. "I won't let that happen," she promises bringing Terry's eyes to face her.

The round of silence that surrounds them is filled with unspoken gratitude and respect before being interrupted by the sight of a mockingbird landing on a nearby tree to sing its tune for the day.

"You never told me how you and Henry met, by the way," Terry starts, changing the subject.

"I already told you about the gang," she replies as she pays particular attention to the perched bird.

"That doesn't really answer the question."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious, and I thought now would be the best time to ask."

A moment of hesitation passes before Jazz speaks again. "I was twelve at the time and I had just stolen a gold watch. I was being chased by the pawn shop owner, so I ran into an alley to hide. I managed to shake him off my tail, but it took me a minute to realize I wasn't alone. Henry and the gang had a habit of hanging out in alleys while they planned the next heist. They figured out what just happened, and Henry, who's usually the planner, asked if I would help them break into the mall. He said I was small enough to crawl through the vents and disarm the security alarm, so I did. Ever since then, we were stuck together. He took care of me right up until I got caught and sentenced."

"Who else was in the gang?"

"Uh, let's see," she tries to remember. "There was a set of triplets, we called them A, Alpha, and One. Then there was Slim, he was the oldest at 18, and Keys, Henry's best friend."

"Don't know their real names?"

"No, our way of protecting each other in case one of us squeals. What about you?"

"Me?"

"I heard about Big Time."

"How?" Terry asks stiffening.

"Henry knew of him through one of his contacts. Word traveled in Gotham after he got arrested; I remember Henry telling me about it, and he mentioned Tiny Terry. I figured that was you after I found out about your record."

"You never mentioned it before," he replies.

"Never found the right time."

"Sounds like you already know the story, though."

"Not your side of it."

Her answer reassures Terry releasing the reflexive tension he often feels when faced with this subject. When people find out about one side, they feel it's enough to place judgment, marking him as the delinquent society views him to be. They never ask for his side of the story, how he got tangled in a situation that almost ruined his future. The fact that Jazz took him into consideration though, was surprising to say the least, but it somehow comforts him. Looking out at the singing bird, Terry starts the explanation he has rarely given.

"Charlie is the kind of guy that exploits your trust once he earns it. After he has you wrapped around his finger, he makes the world seem wrong and him right, and the worst part is anyone can fall for his con."

"How'd you meet him?"

"I snuck out while my parents were having another one of their yelling matches. Charlie found me spray-painting walls that night; I was so angry by everything that it was easy for him to convince me to help him break into a corner store. Ever since then, I was always his right hand man, at least that's what he made it seem like."

"He was a real sleaze ball," Jazz says scowling at the thought of anyone taking advantage of Terry. "Henry used to warn me about him. I'm glad we never met."

Terry quietly nods not sure what to say in reply. He isn't exactly glad he met Charlie, but he doesn't regret it either. Charlie gave Terry a chance to grow up and see the world through a different set of eyes both when he was on Terry's side and when he double-crossed him. He gave Terry a sense of weariness that protects him from being exploited or played with, one that has proven its usefulness countless times.

A few long minutes pass before Jazz suddenly climbs out of the pool. "Where you going?" Terry asks without moving.

"Get a drink; you want something?"

"Whatever you're having."

She returns a few minutes later with a couple cold bottles of beer and a bag of pretzels. She hands him the beer and takes a seat on the edge dipping her legs back into the water.

"So what's with all the pink?" Terry asks after taking a swig of his drink.

"What do you mean?" Jazz returns as she munches on a pretzel.

"You're swim suit is pink, you have a pink blanket at home, pink wallet, pink towel, pink laptop, you even had pink eyes. What's up with that?"

"I like pink, is that a problem?"

"No, but it doesn't make sense. You seem more of the tomboy type, so all this pink has me confused."

"Me a tomboy?" She asks with a raised brow.

"Well, yeah. You don't mind getting your hands dirty, I've never seen you wear make-up or skirts, never really care what your hair looks like, and you're drinking beer in a swim suit."

"What's beer got to do with it?"

"Doesn't it make you bloat? At least that's what I always hear girls complain about."

"Those girls are prissy little brats," Jazz replies before taking a swig of her bottle. "There's nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty. I mean I'm not suggesting a swim in the sewers or anything like that, 'cause that's disgusting. But I'm always up for a game of football in the rain any time. Mud doesn't kill anyone.

"Make-up has never been a thing of mine. It takes twenty minutes of your day to put on, and then you worry all day about smudges or eye-liner running. I say screw it all, I'd rather be comfortable. And skirts aren't practical when you're running around all day going from classes to work. You always have to watch the way you sit and you're never really comfortable going up stairs because you never know who's trying to catch a look."

"And your hair?"

"Is there something wrong with not primping it every day? Am I any uglier if I choose to keep its natural color and simply run a brush through it before heading out? Look, I'm not saying I never wear make-up or fix my hair, but it makes no sense to do that every day. It's just a giant waste of time and money. Girls who look like they're ready for a ball everyday piss me off. They're constantly worrying about chipping their fake nails or having a strand of hair out of place. They're just snobby princesses who've been coddled by mommy and daddy. Excuse me if I'm comfortable in my own skin and don't care if people think I'm fat or thin, or if the clothes I wear don't cost a mint to buy. They can shove it if they don't like it."

Finished with her rant, Terry bursts into laughter amused by the show of confidence resonating from the woman sitting beside him. He's spent so much time around girls like Chelsea and Blade that he's forgotten there are girls like Jazz still roaming the world.

"What?" Jazz asks amused by his laughter.

"Nothing," he sighs. "Just glad you think all that."

"I don't think it, I believe it. I'm not a tomboy, McGinnis, I just prefer convenience and comfort above anything else."

"For the record, the natural look suits you."

"Uh, thanks," she stammers caught off guard by the compliment.

She pops another pretzel into her mouth as she brings her knees up to her chest and hugs them. Terry can't help but grin when he spots pink nail polish on her toes.

"So is that the kind of girls you like?" Jazz asks watching her toes splash the water beneath them.

"Who? The prissy snobs you just described?" She shoots a mischievous grin his way. "No, they're too high maintenance for me." He suddenly notices a small detail on Jazz's foot that he's surprised to have missed after all the time he's known her. "It that a tattoo?" He asks touching the top of her foot just behind her pinky toe.

"Yeah," she replies lifting her foot up so she could get a better look. "Souvenir from my wilder days."

"Why a turtle?" He asks recognizing the tiny patch of art that's the size of a nickel.

"Some cultures believe they bring good luck."

"When did you get it?"

"Sixteenth birthday. Everyone was getting cars, I wanted a tattoo."

"Cute," he comments running a finger over it one last time.

"Thanks," Jazz replies with a smile before turning her eyes to the manor. "He's watching us again," she informs when she finds Bruce looking down at them.

"I know," Terry replies without turning. He doesn't need his eyes to confirm it.

"Why doesn't he just come down here and join us?" she asks looking down at Terry.

"He's too proud of his brooding nature to admit he likes company."

"He doesn't have to talk to us; he can just sit here under the umbrella."

"Just leave him be. He probably prefers to stay in the cool study than out in the suffocating heat."

"Does he still hate me?"

"Yeah," Terry bluntly replies.

"No, please, don't sugar coat it," Jazz sarcastically responds rolling her eyes.

"You asked a question, I gave you an answer," Terry shrugs as he looks out at the mockingbird still perched on its branch. "Look, he holds grudges, so it's hard for him to forgive. Just think of it this way: if he let you come back, then he doesn't hate you _that_ much."

She nods once in reply before taking another sip of her beer. "If it weren't for you, I don't think I'd be able to work with him."

"He's rough at first, but when he warms up to you, he really isn't that bad. Give it time I guess." The quiet moment that follows marks the end of that discussion. "My brother's been asking about you recently."

"Me?" Jazz asks taken aback by the news. "Why?"

"I don't know," Terry replies shrugging. "You piqued his curiosity since that phone call."

"That's really uh, cute," Jazz awkwardly replies.

"You mean weird," Terry corrects. "It's okay, you can say it."

"No, it's not that," she replies. "I didn't think I made an impression considering how rude he was."

"You never know what's going through a teenager's head I guess."

"So, what's he been asking?" Jazz asks trying not to sound like a gossipy twelve-year-old.

"Who you are and how I know you; stuff like that."

"Yeah, and?"

Terry raises a curious brow at her as he wonders why she seems so interested in such a minuscule matter. "And nothing. I told him you work with me, and that's that." He pulls himself out of the pool and moves to grab his towel. "You hungry?" He asks as he rubs the towel over his hair before wrapping it around his waist.

"Are you making sandwiches again?" Jazz asks as she stands.

"Pretty much."

"Then how bout I feed you this time," she offers, pulling her loose cotton shirt over her head.

-continued-


	3. Chapter 3

**_PS: feel free to check out videos on the songs referenced here if you guys are interested. However, not that you don't need to know the reference music to get the chapter; i'm just recommending it cause Michael Buble is like the best singer ever... EVER... trust me on this one ;)_**

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><p>With a wide grin on his face, Terry follows her into the kitchen and takes a seat at the island as he watches her move around collecting ingredients and utensils. However, when he thinks that all he has to do is watch, Jazz sets a cutting board in front of him and hands him a large chef's knife.<p>

"You're helping," she says with a smile.

"Why?"

"Cause you're in my kitchen now," she replies before placing a cucumber, green bell pepper, and two garlic cloves on top of the board.

"Uh, so what are we making?" He asks as she places a large pot of water on the burner.

"Gazpacho," she replies before she turns the oven on. "And my own version of pizza. You'll need these," she says giving him a spoon and a peeler.

"For what?"

"Peeling and seeding the cucumber. You know how to dice, right?"

"Nope," he replies with a grin hoping that would get him out of the job, but the scowl he receives makes him roll his eyes and sigh, "yes."

"Good," she smiles and takes out a bag of fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes.

She pulls out a package of English muffins and splits them open to smear a little bit of mayonnaise on each slice. She takes out another cutting board setting it across from Terry's, pulls out another knife, and slices a tomato with expert precision. Once done, she places the slices over the English muffins she prepared. She moves to the window sill where a potted basil plant sits, picks a few big leaves and returns to her station to slice them into thin strips. Opening the package of shredded mozzarella taken out of the fridge earlier, she sprinkles enough cheese over each tomato to cover it, then adds a bit of the shredded basil leaves on top of that. All the while she's working, Terry intently watches her as he slowly peels the cucumber.

"What?" She asks when she notices his staring eyes. Placing her English muffins on a baking sheet, she slides them into the hot oven and sets the timer for seven minutes.

"Nothing," Terry replies looking down as he slices his peeled cucumber in half. He uses the spoon to scoop out the seeds before chopping it up. "You just look different when you're in the kitchen."

"Different how?" She asks as she sets an onion on her board and chops it in half.

"You're very focused." He starts deseeding the bell pepper before he chops it up at well.

"Is that bad?" She asks peeling off the onion's skin before she efficiently dices it.

"Never said that."

"Then what are you saying?" She asks as she watches him work slowly. If she was a chef at a restaurant, he would be the first person she would fire.

"This cooking business, it suits you," he replies as he carefully chops away.

"Thanks," she replies stealing his garlic and mincing it.

She turns to find the pot of water she prepared has begun to boil, so she grabs a bowl, fills it with ice and water, and sets it beside the stove. She plops the bag of tomatoes in front of Terry, and takes out two paring knives handing him one.

"Watch closely," she instructs moving to his side for a better view. Picking up a tomato, she turns it so the bottom is facing up and uses the knife to lightly carve an X on it. "Not too deep or you'll pierce it and spill juice everywhere, but not too light or they'll never peel. Got it?"

"Peel?" He asks picking up a tomato and repeating the same action.

"You'll see," she says nodding with satisfaction when his X turns out fine.

As he continues marking the tomatoes, the timer chimes indicating the muffins are done. She turns the oven off and checks on the food before smiling with satisfaction. She leaves them in the oven to stay warm and returns to the island to mark the rest of the tomatoes.

Once they're ready, she adds the tomatoes a few at a time into the boiling pot of water before fishing them out a few seconds later and dropping them into the icy water. She repeats the process until all the tomatoes have been blanched. Draining the water from the bowl now filled with tomatoes, she places it on the counter in front of Terry.

"Now the fun begins," she says picking up a tomato. With the skin loosened from the blanching process, she peels it off then cuts it in half. She scoops out the seeds and puts the tomato aside. "Your turn."

At first, Terry has a bit of trouble trying to peel the skin off the way Jazz had shown him, but he soon gets the hang of it and enters a rhythm. They continue working in silence until all the tomatoes have been peeled and seeded. Jazz quickly chops them all up into large chunks and puts them into the food processor along with the pepper, cucumber, garlic, jalapeño and onion. She adds a can of tomato juice, some olive oil and seasoning before covering the container and blending the ingredients together until they reach the desired consistency.

Turning off the food processor, she pours the cold soup into two bowls, dips a spoon in each and slides one in front of Terry. She then takes the baking sheet of muffins out of the oven and rests it on the stove. She arranges the slices on a serving plate and sets it down on the island before retaking her seat.

"Dig in," she invites with a smile.

He lifts a spoonful to his mouth and slurps the cold soup. The rich flavors and fresh taste impress him yet again making him smile. Following a few spoonfuls, he reaches for a slice of the English muffin and takes a bite of Jazz's version of a pizza.

"Oh my God," he mumbles through a mouthful. "This is really good," he compliments as he takes another bite. "I mean really, _really _good," he repeats tossing the last bite into his mouth and making Jazz giggle.

"I love you, McGinnis," she suddenly blurts out stopping Terry's spoon halfway to his mouth. "I mean, 'cause you always compliment my cooking," she quickly adds looking down at her bowl as she reprimands herself for being so careless with words.

"You sure that's the only reason?" He asks smilingly.

"It is," she replies before stuffing her mouth with the muffin to stop herself from making another stupid comment.

"Cause I don't mind if you prove that friend theory of yours right," Terry teases as he pushes his empty bowl away.

"I'm sorry I said anything," Jazz replies looking away and making him snort with laughter.

"I'm not," he says getting up to fetch another beer from the fridge. She remains silent as she collects the empty bowls and places them in the sink. "What? No come back?" He asks as he hands her a fresh bottle.

"No," she mutters taking it and setting it down on the counter while she cleans up.

However, instead of following Terry back out to the pool, Jazz prepares another bowl of the cold Spanish soup and a plate of muffin pizza and carries them up to the study.

"Hey," she greets Bruce, who is seated by the window with book in hand and Ace loyally sleeping at his feet. His eyes fix on her while hiding the curious questions going through his head. "I, uh, thought you might be hungry," she quietly explains as she sets the food down on a side table.

He looks down at the offering with a raised brow before turning his eyes back up. He finds her timidly standing beside him waiting for some sort of acknowledgment for her efforts. However, when he remains silent, Jazz nervously rubs the back of her neck as she slowly turns to leave.

"Thank you," Bruce suddenly says before she steps out the door.

She whips her head around at first surprised then relieved. "Let me know if you need anything else," she smiles before closing the door behind her.

She can't help but sigh with happiness and relief; Bruce had been acting painfully cold towards her ever since her return, but it seems that her desperate attempts to get his approval are finally warming him up again. She skips down the steps and into the kitchen to fetch her drink before joining Terry laying on the lounger admiring the array of colors the setting sun is creating.

"Hey," he greets looking up at her. "Where'd you go?"

"Uh, bathroom," she lies, not wanting to admit to her quest of seeking Bruce's trust. Although Terry senses her dishonesty, he doesn't pursue it thinking there's no reason to question her.

A few moments of silence pass before Terry suddenly asks, "you know what we need?"

"What?"

"Music. I saw a CD player and speakers in the shed; I'll be right back."

Without giving Jazz the chance to reply, he heads to the shed to set up the music. He finds the speakers under a tarp and looking like they're in working condition; then he finds the outdated CD player that successfully turns on without a hitch. Setting it up, he carries the speaker out and sets it down by the outlet where he plugs it in along with the lights they had hung the night before. When the music streams out of the old speaker, Terry smiles and returns to his seat.

"What's playing?" Jazz asks not recognizing the tune or the singer.

"Some CD that was already in there." She raises a questioning brow at him. "The thing didn't have a plug for my iPod, so take it or leave it," he adds shrugging.

"Was there a case that came with the CD?"

"Some guy called Michael something... Bubl e."

A few music filled minutes pass before Jazz says, "not bad; I kinda like him. Has a swingish melody to it."

"Swingish?" Terry repeats the made-up word with a raised brow.

"Well, you know, swing like the ballroom dance. I don't suppose you know this song."

"_Crazy little thing called love_," Terry replies in almost a sing-song tone.

"How'd you know?" Jazz asked surprised by his response.

"I took ballroom dance for college credit," he explains. "Teacher played this song for the swing portion of the class."

"Don't tell me," Jazz suddenly perks up looking at him with amusement. "Terrence Warren McGinnis, do you swing?"

"A little, yeah," Terry timidly replies.

"Oh, this is going to be good," she says as she shoots up from her seat and hurries into the shed to replay the song before coming out again. "Teach me," she requests holding out a hand.

"What?" Terry asks looking surprised.

"Come on, I've always wanted to learn."

"Take a class."

"Please?" Jazz pleads with a pout making Terry roll his eyes.

"Fine," he sighs getting up and taking her hand. He pulls her to a space wide enough to practice and begins instruction. "This hand goes here," he says placing her left hand on his upper arm just below the shoulder joint. "This hand," he adds holding her right hand in his, "always push it against my palm. It's the only way I can lead you without you stumbling around. Got it?" She nods once. "Ok, straighten up, think elegant dancer; square your shoulders; that's good. Now listen to the beat. Triple step, triple step, rock step, so it's 1 2 3, 1 2 3, 1 2," he says as he steps to the count. "Getting it?"

"Yup," she says following him slowly at first then quickly picking up the tempo.

It doesn't take long for her to get the rhythm and grin when she realizes she's keeping up with her partner just fine.

"Keep your head up, never look at your feet," Terry warns lifting her chin. "Ok, now remember triple step, triple step, rock step." After a few basic steps Terry surprises her by leading her into an underarm turn. She stumbles as she tries to regain the rhythm. "Don't lead," Terry corrects knowing why she made the mistake. "Just follow; you'll feel where I'm taking you with my hand, and just keep the count in your head." She nods before they try the turn again. This time she lets him fully take over and is pleasantly surprised when she pulls off the move without any mishaps.

"What else do you know?" Jazz tests excited by the prospect of new moves.

"Oh, a few other tricks," he replies with a grin.

He slides his hands down her arms to hold her hands. "Let me lead," he reminds her one last time before taking her on a whirlwind of fancy arm work that have her twisting and spinning all while she laughs with glee. He spins her out, then pulls her back in before dipping her with one fluid motion just as the song ends.

"Wow!" Jazz exclaims as he pulls her up. "That was unbelievable! Let's do it again!"

"This isn't a swing song," Terry replies referring to the next song that comes up.

"What is it then?"

"It's called Sway; it has a batchata beat to it."

"I take it you know that too?" She asks with another sly grin.

"Turn around," he says suppressing a smile; he doesn't want her to know that he's actually enjoying this. He takes hold of her hips and pulls her close. "The count for this is 1 2 3 tap, 1 2 3 tap. So," with her hips in his hands, he leads her into the step. "The trick with this dance," he starts as he continues leading her through the basic step, "is the tap. It's not a foot thing, it's a hip thing," he explains.

With hands still on her hips, he walks around to face her as she continues with the steps. He notices her crimson face from the corner of his eye but keeps quiet as he keeps his eyes on her hips.

"This is a Latin dance, so sway your hips with every step especially on the tap." She leaves her bashfulness behind as she begins to loosen up and move to the music. "Better. Think of this as a seductive dance; you're teasing with your hips but you're not completely giving in like in a Bolero."

When their eyes meet, they become locked in a gaze that nothing could break. "Good," Terry quietly praises as he runs his hands up her back and down her arms taking up the intimate dance position with Terry's hand sitting lower than before on Jazz's back.

He breaks their hypnotized stare to send her into a quick, under arm spin. Instead of spinning her all the way, he smoothly slides a hand on her stomach stopping her from facing him and pressing her back against him making Jazz suddenly aware of his missing shirt. However, rather than nervously stumble, she closes her eyes and feels his body move to the beat as she follows him. A moment later, she finds herself spinning out and away from him before he brings her back.

"You're a natural," Terry says when she looks up at him.

"You're a good teacher," she replies awakening from the trance she seemed to be in. "What else do you know?"

"Bunch of other stuff I could show you some other time," he replies before suddenly sending her into a quick dip. "Try that again, but slower," he instructs before sending her down again. This time she does a slow half circle with her dip before she comes back up. "Nice," he grins.

"Bet the girls loved you in that class."

"You have no idea," he replies remembering the days when said girls "passively" fought each other over partnering with him. He holds her closer as the song comes to an end.

"Do you know this one?" Jazz asks when the next song comes up.

"Uh, no," Terry responds letting go of her.

However, when he moves to return to his seat, Jazz holds out her hand requesting another dance. "Don't know how to slow dance, twinkle-toes?" She asks spreading a coy smile on Terry's lips. He takes her hand and spins her into his arms before leading her into a two step they both know.

Jazz begins humming along to the song taking Terry by surprise. "You know this song?"

"It's called '_You don't know me'_. My mom used to play it on the piano," she replies. "It's kind of a sad song." They listen to Buble sorrowfully sing the tune as they slowly move along to the beat.

_No you don't know the one, _

_Who dreams of you at night, _

_And longs to kiss your lips, _

_And longs to hold you tight, _

_Oh I'm just a friend, _

_That's all I've ever been, _

_Cause you don't know me. _

"Guy loves girl, but girl loves other guy," Terry summarizes as he rests the hand holding Jazz's against his chest.

"Told you it was sad," she replies before looking away. "_You give your hand to me_," Jazz quietly sings along a moment later, "_and then you say good-bye. I watch you walk away, beside the lucky guy. Oh you'll never know, the one who loves you so, 'cause you don't know me."_

She rests her head against his bare shoulder while they quietly listen to the piano and guitar solo that follows. As they slowly sway, Terry rests his cheek on the top of her head as he wonders about this odd twist of fate. He has learned more about her during these two days than he has in the last year and a half, all because he decided to clean Bruce's pool. And now here they are in each other's embrace swaying to a heartbreaking love song, a position he never imagined to find himself in. What's even more surprising to him is the fact that he's enjoying it more than expected.

He always thought the woman in his arms was just an abrasive creature whose main task in life was to push people away. However, especially after today, he sees her to be a caring person whose methods may be a bit aggressive but still kind in nature. She's fearless and moves with confidence, and she only reveals her softer side to a select and privileged few. Out of everything she is, his favorite aspect is that she has flaws, some of which are very much like his own; they understand each other better because of it. The more he thinks of the things he's learned about her, the closer he holds her knowing that in a minute or two they'll have to part and probably pretend this never happened.

Jazz on the other hand has freed her mind of all thoughts; instead, she's taking in the sensation of his smooth skin against her blushing cheek, and letting the smell that she can only describe to be Terry's flood her brain. The grip she has on the hand holding hers tightens when she feels Terry pull her closer. She has stopped trying to suppress the flutter in her stomach that has started since the first song began. The warmth of his body surprised her at first since she has never really felt it against hers, but now she can't seem to get enough of it. Although, considering they've wrestled on the mat, this isn't the first time they've been this close together, but somehow tonight everything seems different. On the mat, it's Terry pinning her down with an awkward move, whereas now it's Terry holding her against him as they slowly move to the gentle music playing. Today he seems different, as though he's been thawed and brought back to life; and she finds herself wanting to explore him more even though she's not sure what to explore in the first place.

Suddenly, a dog's muzzle pushing between their legs forces them apart and out of their dream-like state. Content with the interruption, Ace nudges the same nose against Jazz's legs asking for a petting session. However, she ignores him and looks up to find Terry timidly rubbing the back of his neck and looking at someone over her shoulder. When she turns, she notices Bruce standing there watching them with a strange face. He doesn't look unhappy, but rather seems to be warning Terry with his eyes before turning and walking into the shadows of the manor.

Jazz turns to look up at Terry who has already retrieved his shirt and is pulling it over his head. "Sun's gone down," he announces as if Jazz can't see the dark sky and twinkling stars for herself.

"Hey," she awkwardly starts approaching him. "Thanks for the uh, the lesson."

"Sure," he nods without smiling making Jazz a little uncomfortable.

"I, er, guess I'll see you downstairs," she says as she turns away from him and grabs her shorts. A shooting star suddenly crosses her vision making her look up. "See that?" She asks turning to find Terry looking in the same direction.

"Mhm," he acknowledges.

"Then make a wish," she replies with a smile before walking away from him.

And so he does.

END

Hope you enjoyed the read and thanks for reviewing!


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